My Teenage Tragedy
by Tehsylvania
Summary: Set in modern times, everyone must face everyday problems that teenagers today now face. Still follows the book and MercySeverity's original plot just set in our times.
1. Ponyboy

Tehsylvania: Very recently, MercySeverity has discontinued fanfiction for reasons. I have been allowed to post and continue this story. I was also given permission to do rewrite whatever I want; however, I'll be keeping the original version, and if I ever feel the need to change something (99 chance that I won't, except for spelling errors). MercySeverity, I thank you for giving me the chance to continue this.

And people, this is a warning: MercySeverity and I have possible different writing styles. So in chapter 5 and on, you'll notice that they'll be slightly different.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders.

My Teenage Tragedy

Part I: Chapter I: Ponyboy Curtis

My name is Ponyboy Curtis. Yeah. . .you read that right; Ponyboy. It's kind of a weird name. Okay, so it's a really weird name. I think my mom might've been some kind of hippie when I was born. In school, I go by my middle name, Michael. But at home, my brothers call me Pony. I would feel kind of stupid if people knew my name was actually Pony. There is a skating logo with the word 'Pony' on it, and when I wear the red 'Pony' shirt I have, I feel like I'm wearing a nametag. My hair is brown and short in the back, and kind of long in the front. I keep my bangs out of my face by running my hand through my hair. I suppose I do it a lot, and I really should trim my bangs, but I haven't felt like doing it lately. My eyes are grey-ish green; I like to think that they're grey. I don't really like a lot of people I know with green eyes. I'm looking at myself in the mirror in the front of the locker room. My face is red from running track, sweat and water running down my cheeks. My black Etnies are old and worn; I'm pretty sure I spotted a hole in the sole somewhere. I'm wearing a dark grey shirt that reads 'Volcom' on the chest in white letters with red tracing around the letters. My jean shorts go down right past my knees. I pat the pockets to make sure all of my pencils are still in there. I have Spanish I next. How I'm passing my Spanish class, I don't know; all I do is draw all over the notes that the teacher gives us. I'm a freshman at Sandalwood, and I'm fourteen years old. It's the beginning of winter; late November.

The dismissal bell rang, and I made my way out of the locker room. Mostly freshman take gym; people usually get gym overwith so they don't have to ever take it again. High school is okay as opposed to middle scool. My middle school was crowded and it sucked. But high school isn't as crowded. Plus, the new hour lunch thing is great. My older brother, Soda, who is a sophmore1, said they usually didn't have the one hour lunch, and the schoolboard finally gave them a break. You have a whole hour to eat wherever you want. Speaking of Soda, I can see him heading towards me from woodshop. The gym and the woodshop class are pretty close together. "Hey, Pony!" he called. Him and I have lockers right next to eachother, so we usually see eachother every period. We have five minutes between each class, and our lockers are pretty close to our classes. The hallway that our lockers are in is right next to the janitors department, so it usually smells really bad. It's a dark hallway; I think no one ever changes the lights. All of the skaters hang around this hall, and Soda is friends with a lot of them.

"Hey, Soda," I said, turning the black lock to my combination. I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing a grey Green Day shirt, with black jean shorts that he had on around his waist. They reached past his knees. His DCs were fairly new; he had been saving up to buy them for so long it wasn't funny. Soda's blond hair seemed almost perfect; it was kind of long, and he brushed it to the side. His eyes were brown, and he was usually never mad, unless someone was messing with his friends. Soda's a great fighter; he's never picked a fight, but people have picked fights with him. Mostly jocks who can't stand skaters. He has a girlfriend; she is kind of preppy, but really nice. Her locker was two spots to the right from mine, and mine was on the very end. Soda's was on the other side of hers. It gets kind of annoying to watch them flirt and make out all of the time, but I am happy for them. His girlfriend's name is Sandy. She's a pretty blonde girl, with beautiful blue eyes. I haven't seen her yet today, but I think she gets out of her classes kind of late. Soda waits for her anyways.

"So, Pony, how was gym class today?" Soda teased. He won't ever let me forget the fact that I have to take gym until the end of May, and he doesn't.

"It was fine, Soda," I replied. "Is Two-Bit here today? Or are we riding the bus?"

"Yeah, Two-Bit's here alright. He just ate lunch out, so he could go drink some beer," Soda said with a smirk. "Says he's got a suprise to show us, too." Me, Soda, his friend Steve, and his friend Two-Bit, or Kieth, all eat lunch together in the dark hallway by mine and Soda's locker.

"Oh," I said, laughing. "Alright, see you later."

"Later, Pony!" Soda said, banging on his locker to get it to open. The lockers always act up; mine doesn't really get jammed that much, but Soda's does. It won't open, so he bangs on it for awhile. It's usually the fact that he never organises it. Now, I'm not a neat freak or anything, but it would help him a little to not just throw all of his shit in the locker. I headed to the Foreign Language pod2. Spanish sucked, but it was the last class of the day. It was also kind of easy, seeing as I took one Spanish course in middle school. I was in Spanish I, so I knew basically everything the teacher was teaching anyways. The tardy bell rang shrilly. I jogged to my class with my Spanish book in hand along with my blue folder labeled 'Spanish' in a metallic Sharpie.

I pulled open the door right as the teacher was taking role. She was a small, old lady. Not sure how old; she still has blonde hair, and it seems pretty natural so she can't be that old. She had a French accent that drove me crazy. I wonder why she teaches Spanish anyways if she's French. She has four French classes, and two Spanish classes. I made my way to my seat, which was on the far side of the room. I was on the second row, in the third seat. The wooden desk was defaced with graffiti. I had added my own in my black Sharpie. Well, it wasn't exactly mine, but that didn't really matter. The teacher had never caught me, and she doesn't check desks as far as I know. I tossed my book under my desk as the teacher announced that we weren't going to use them. I crossed out a piece of graffiti that read 'Soda Curtis is a cumguzzler', and wrote under it 'Bob Sheldon sucks cock'. I hated those jocks so much, but I would never say anything to their faces. In the social world, there are five things you can be: a jock, a prep, a punk/skater, a goth, or a dork. Soda told me all about the cruel cycle of teenagers. The preps and jocks eat the ones with low selfesteem alive, socially. They find out all the dirt they can on you, and if there isn't any, they make some up, just because they don't like the way you look. They know you won't do anything because you have a low selfesteem, and that's why they do it. When they've done all they can to humiliate those kids, they move up the ladder to the dorks and nerds, coming down on them for liking the things they don't like. Then, it's the skaters turn. They never really mess with the skaters or punks, because they think that it's cool to look like them and be friends with them. That's the thing everyone in school seems to want: to look cool. I applaude those who aren't like that. As for the goths, no one will say anything directly to them; everyone is slightly afraid of them, even if they don't like to admit it. 

"Señor Curtis?" Mrs. Araman called, breaking my train of thought. I looked up.

"Uh, aqui," I replied. She made us reply in Spanish. It was really stupid, and I don't think it really helped much, except to clutter your already clouded mind.

She continued calling the role. I glanced over at the clock in the corner. It read one-twenty. "Ughhh," I said quietly to myself. This class, for some reason, seemed to be longer than all of the rest, even Drawing, which was first in the morning. I bent to pick up my pen, which I had knocked on the floor. In the process, I glanced over at the second to last desk, where a black-haired boy sat. He never talked to anyone, and no one ever talked to him. It bothered me. Everyone should have at least one person to talk to. Right now, I can see him staring at his desk with his sad-looking brown eyes. I could see a pair of headphones around his ears; his hood was hiding them, but from this angle I could see them. He was wearing a black hoodie that had an orange-ish flame on the front, with a double-pentacle in black inside the circle of flames. On the arms it had similar orange flames racing up the sides, and said 'Slipknot' in black letters. I knew that Slipknot was a heavy metal band; none of my friends are much for heavy metal. Why would you want to listen to music that consisted of someone screaming at you? It didn't make much sense to me. Soda, Steve, Two-Bit and I listened to the same kind of music; the old punk rock stuff. You know, the Clash, the Sex Pistols, stuff like that. I put the pencil back on the desk and sighed, once again looking at the clock that seemed to be going slower than it should.

I made my way back to my locker, only to be greeted(suprise, suprise) with the sight of Soda and Sandy kissing. It was a grim reminder of how utterly single I was. Soda told me wait, and the right girl for me would come along, but I can't really see how. I usually don't worry about girl problems, but when I do, I get kind of worried over it, thinking that I just might grow up alone.

"Hi, Pony!" Sandy said happily as she saw me at my locker. She refused to call me Michael, but it didn't bother me much, as long as she wasn't around my friends. They would tease me about that until the end of the world if they ever found out my name.

"Hey Sandy," I replied. She was wearing a red shirt, with red mesh sleeves. It had the Independent skate logo on the chest. Her blonde hair was layered, and hanging over her shoulders. She was kind of preppy in the looks, but not in personality. She can be really funny and goofy, and likes the same music as Soda and I do(that was actually Soda's doing). Her pants were just normal flare blue jeans, She was wearing a pair of black DCs, also, although I'm not really sure she knew what DC was. But, a lot of girls nowadays wear skating shoes, and don't really skate. She had Soda's Nirvana hoodie tied around her waist. She knew a few songs by Nirvana, so I can't really get onto her for that.

"How'd your day go?" she asked, putting her arm around Soda's waist as he did the same.

"It was okay," I said, putting my Spanish book and folder back in the locker. I closed the locker, and started walking with them. We headed toward the senior parking lot, where Two-Bit and Steve were waiting for us. It was right through the double doors that were around the corner.

"No homework?" Soda asked.

"Nope. Did it at lunch, remember?" I said.

"Oh, yeah."

"Hey, you said Two-Bit had a suprise?" I asked, remembering what Soda had said earlier.

"Yeah," Soda replied. "Wonder what it is."

Sandy laughed. "Who knows with that maniac!" Kieth, or as we sometimes call him, Two-Bit, has quite a reputation around the school. He's one of those flunkees who everyone, and I mean everyone, in the entire school knows. He's a senior, still, at the age of eighteen. He says he likes school too much to leave it. That, and he's just about one of the laziest people when it comes to schoolwork and labor. He had rusty colored hair, with long side burns and some facial hair that came from years of smoking weed. He said he had stopped about two years back. But you could never tell; he always seems high whether he's smoking or not. He's kind of like Soda in the manner that he doesn't really get angry with people. His eyes are grey, and you can see that he's always up to something, just by looking at his eyes. He drove an old, shitty Corolla, silver in color. He was supposedly saving up for a nice car, but I don't think he has a job, so I don't know where he's going to get the money. We exited the school, and searched the parking lot for Two-Bit's Corolla. I couldn't spot it, and I was the one with the good eyes.

"Where the hell did that idiot go?" Soda said out loud. A horn honked, which was usual in the senior parking lot of Sandalwood. Out of habit, I looked in the direction of the carhorn, and saw Two-Bit sitting in a red Ford Thunderbird Convertible Lowrider. It had a white top, and white leather interior. My mouth hung open at the sight. The car was a beauty; it looked nearly brand new. "Holy fucking shit!" Soda said what was on everyone's mind.

Two-Bit grinned. "Hello, kiddies. Remember that suprise I told you about?"

"Dude!" Soda said, walking towards the car. Even Sandy was impressed, and she doesn't even like cars. "Where the hell did you get enough money to buy this?"

"I have a job. I told you guys that. Down at J-D Buyrider. Where else did you think I was every day after school? Studying?" Two-Bit laughed.

"How the hell did you afford it? You must have a pretty damn good salary!" Soda said, opening the back door and letting Sandy in. He got in behind her. I followed. "What year's this thing?"

"'90. I get a pretty good paycheck. . .five-hundred a month," Two-Bit replied.

"How long you been saving up?"

"This thing cost ten-thousand five hundred. I been savin' up for awhile now. I had a little help from Steve. . .so I guess until I pay him back, we're sharing the thing."

"Damn straight," a new voice said. We all turned to face Steve, who was leaning on the passenger seat door. His brown hair was kind of long, and spiked up. He slid into the passenger seat. He was wearing a black shirt that read 'Emerica' in grey letters, with black jean shorts. He propped his feet up on the dashboard to tie his shoes, which were black Vans. 

"Evie not riding with us today?" Two-Bit said. Steve shook his head.

"Her alarm clock probably screwed up today, again," Steve said. "She didn't wake up on time, is my guess."

We had to wake up pretty early for high school; me and Soda got up at five-thirty along with my older brother Darry. Darry was twenty-one; he was our legal gaurdian since our parents died two months ago. He was a serious guy, usually. But he can be kind of fun when he loosens up. He's got blue-green eyes, with brown hair. He only works one job, so far, but he makes enough to put food on the table and everything. Soda has a part-time job up at the Little Champ; he saves some of his money, and the rest of the money he uses to help Darry with taxes, and other things like that. Darry said that next year I could get a job at the Food Lion if I wanted to, which I do. I want to help out a little, too.

"So," Two-Bit said, trying to be a conversationalist. He has a big mouth, so he's usually the one to always start conversations. "Um, this is a first, you guys; I've got nothing to talk about!"

"Damn, you're right. Hell must've frozen over," Soda remarked. Sandy giggled.

"Shut up, Soda!" Two-Bit called with a grin. Two-Bit and Soda make fun of each other a lot, but they never do it in cold blood.

I sighed, and smirked. I rested my elbow on the door, and leaned against my hand. I hummed a song by Judas Priest that I had had stuck in my head all day. I closed my eyes, tired as hell. Waking up at five-thirty tends to do that to you. It felt good to have the wind running through my hair; Two-Bit's new car was awesome. It made me forget about everything, for some reason. I drifted in and out of sleep, catching bits and pieces of the others' conversations.

----

1-I'm not sure how old Soda was...I think he was sixteen-going-on-seventeen, but it might've been fifteen-going-on-sixteen...oh well, he's a sophomore!

2-At my old highschool, where this chapter took place, we had small hallways where all of the Language Classes, Math classes, etc., were located, and we called them 'pods'. Don't ask why; it wasn't my decison.


	2. TwoBit

Tehsylvania:Since writing this fic,I've nowgot a craving to write astory about The Outsiders set in the 1800's. Maybe I'll write it. . .

And to Maddiecake, my only reviewer: Ash Creek... Ash Creek...I think I might've heard about it... I'll look it up later.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders. The original storyline of this fic belongs MercySeverity.

WARNING: This chapter contains racist slurs. Well, one actually. If you are offended, skip over it.

My Teenage Tragedy

Part I: Chapter II: Kieth "Two-Bit" Mathews

My name's Kieth. But, I don't exactly go by that name. I go by Two-Bit. Don't ask why; it was something the guys made up. They said it was because I always have to get my two cents in, and how back in the sixties, they didn't say 'two cents', but 'two bits'. Weird hippies. Oh well. I like my nickname as it is, and 'two cents' would've sounded like that rapper dude anyways. I'm a senior, although I probably should be in college. I like high school too much to leave it. Besides, everyone, even the freshman, know me. They call me Two-Bit, and even some of the teachers call me Two-Bit. But, keep in mind, just because they know me doesn't make me their friends. I have plenty of enemies; the jocks, the thugs, the. . .uh. . .well that's all I can think of right now! You know how those kids get in groups and start whooping and dancing? I will tell you now: never, and I mean NEVER jump in the middle of one of those things. You'll get the shit kicked out of you. Well, at least here you will.

I did it once, and I'll never do it again, and I'm the daring one in my group of friends. Soda is the goof-ball; me and him are kind of the same, except he has a little something people call common sense. Soda's little brother, Ponyboy, is the dreamy kind of guy. Not that kind of dreamy! You know, the guys that are into drawing dragons. . .and those mythical creatures and shit. I can't draw worth a shit anyways, so I think he's pretty good at what he does. Steve is the pyro. Dude, he doesn't smoke, but carries a lighter. He burnt his progress report once, just so he could tell his dad that he didn't have it with a straight face. Evie is Steve's girlfriend. She's kind of mature, and yells at me and Soda for having burping contests. She said 'it isn't polite to burp in front of a girl', and Soda burped again really loud just to piss her off. Sandy is Soda's girlfriend. She's really nice to everybody, except when she's PMSing. Its funny how fast her moods change then. Once, a group of kids were kicking a soda bottle around, and they kicked it to us, and it hit a locker and exploded everywhere. It got all over Sandy and Soda, and she was fucking pissed. It was like someone let Lucifer out of Hell just for the sole purpose to posses Sandy. It was funny as HELL! Cathy is my girlfriend; she isn't in high school anymore, but I still see her a lot. When we go off campus for lunch, we usually call Cathy ahead of time and have her meet us wherever. She's nice, and likes to joke around sometimes.

Well, right now, the bell is getting ready to ring for lunch. I'm in Chemistry, and it's a good thing that we're not using any chemicals yet; I would've been turning them all into explosives somehow. The bell rings, and I run out of the class, wanting to get some food in my empty stomach. It's impossible for me to work on complicated things without food in my stomach; I think I might want to try to change the period I have chemistry if I want to pass. . .But the again, I didn't pass last year, so all of this should be pretty easy to remember.

I got to my locker, and saw Soda, Pony, Sandy, and Evie putting their books in their lockers. I started putting the combination in mine, and opened it up. I threw my book and binder in, not caring what got crumpled up in the process. I slammed it shut, and jumped when I saw Steve leaning against the lockers. "Whoa, man, don't sneak up on my like that!" I exclaimed.

"I didn't," Steve said. "I've been here for five minutes. I said 'hello' twice."

"Well, I didn't notice you," I replied. Steve rolled his eyes at this.

"Hey, Two-Bit, you sure you aren't still hooked on pot?" Soda said, grining.

"Ah ha ha ha, oh my God, Soda! You're just hilarious!" I said, punching him on the shoulder. Me and Soda both jumped when we heard something slam hard against a locker. All or our eyes looked to the spot where we had heard the sound. At the end of the row of lockers, one guy had slammed a freshman into a locker, and another guy was standing beside the one who had slammed the kid into the lockers. They were both juniors; I could tell from their IDs.

"Uh oh. . ." Sandy said. "Come on, let's get out of here." She took ahold of Soda's arm.

"Hey," Ponyboy said, "that kid's in my French class."

"And?" Steve said. "Come on. I don't want to get tangled up in this."

I watched as the juniors harassed the kid. "Hey, you some kind of fucking goth spic? What the hell?" The first said, pulling the boy off of the lockers, and slamming him back into them, harder. "Whatcha so depressed about, huh?"

The kid struggled, and tried as hard as he could to get out of the older guy's grasp, but it wasn't happening. I felt kinda bad not doing anything; after all, the boy was younger than them, and outnumbered. But it wasn't my business.

"What the fuck?" I heard another voice. I turned around, and looked to see a blond haired guy walking quickly to the fight. Well, it wasn't a fight yet, but it looked like it was about to be. The blond was wearing a Mudvayne shirt, whatever that is, with blue(it looked blue; it might've been green) plaid pants tucked into black boots. He threw his Geometry book against the wall, and punched the first junior in the side of the head. "You wanted a fight, you fuckin' got one. Come on, bitch," the blond said, grabbing the first guy's ID. He looked ready to strangle the guy, but the other one shoved the blond back.

"Two-Bit!" Steve snapped, getting my attention. They were already walking off, and I couldn't decide whether to pass up these front row seats for a good fight, or go and eat. My stomach grumbled, and won me over. I walked off with Steve, ignoring the fight. But then, someone was shoved into me, and I stumbled forward.

"What the hell?" I said, turning around. The freshman who had been slammed against the locker was now at my feet, knuckles bleeding. He turned to look at me, and said, "Sorry."

"Whatever," I replied. I stood up, and dusted myself off. The blond suddenly brushed by quickly, looked at the black-haired freshman, and said, "Watch your fucking ass, alright? I ain't going to be around everytime one of those dickwads decides to pick a fight. This was a freebie; I don't like seeing kids being beat up when they're outnumbered." He looked at me. "Who the hell are you?"

"Uh, Kieth. Why? You aren't going to kick my ass too, are ya?" I said jokingly.

"Keep up that shit, and I might," the blond replied.

"Sorry. Dude, you're a good fighter," I said.

He looked at me again. "Uh. . .thanks. . .I guess."

How long you been going here? I 've never seen you around before."

"A week. I failed a year; I shouldn't be here anyways," he replied. I glanced down at his ID. Sure enough, there was a blue bar highlighting the white-lettered words: Class of 2004. His name read 'Dallas Winston'.

"Who's that?" I said, nodding towards the black-haired kid.

Dallas shrugged. "I don't know."

I stared at him. He was either completely stupid, or just liked fighting. Who would mingle in a fight to defend someone they didn't know? "Alright. . ."

"Johnny," the black-haired boy replied quietly. Sure enough, the kid did look Hispanic; he was tan with black hair, and brown-ish eyes. He was wearing a hoodie with and 'S' in orangish flames over two stars in a circle. His pants were black and baggy, with two red bondage straps crossing over eachother in the back. His shoes were black Converse's that looked really old.

"What were those guys picking on you for?" I asked. I have a reputation for being nosey; so sue me.

Johnny shrugged. "They don't like me." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Oh. Okay. . .um, so what are you eating for lunch?" I asked. He didn't have any drinks or food or anything.

Again he shrugged. "I don't."

"How do you get through the day?" I said with a grin. If I don't eat lunch, I can barely think the rest of the day. I always make sure I have some money, even if it's only enough for a can of soda. I went to ask Dallas the same thing, and he was gone. I looked down the hall, then back out into the area around the gym. Not there. "So, you wanna eat lunch with me and my friends?"

Johnny looked unsure, as if I were going to play a cruel joke on him. "Um. . .Sure. . ."

"Okay. Come on. We have to go find the others first; we usually eat in this hallway, but we didn't want to get tangled up in that fight," I explained.

Johnny nodded. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and followed me like a dog. I looked down the lunch line to see if Soda or anyone else was in it. Soda and Steve were both through the middle of the line. I made my way down there, and cut in behind them. I grabbed up a pizza, and tapped Soda on the shoulder. "Hey! We wondered where you went," he said.

"This is Johnny," I said, turning to point to him. He didn't say anything, and just looked at Soda and Steve nervously.

"Hey," Soda said. "I'm Soda, that's Steve."

Steve waved, and grabbed two Pepsi's out of the cooler. Soda and Steve stood in line for their girlfriends, and I always bought mine and Ponyboy's lunch. "So, where are we eating? Back by the lockers?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Soda said. Steve payed for the lunches quickly, then said, "I'll go get the rest of the gang." He headed off towards the front of the building. That is always plan 'B'; if our spots are occupied, we go to the front hallway and sit out there.

Soda payed for his food, and I followed. We both walked off, Johnny behind us. I sat threw my sandwich on the floor, and sat next to it. "Sure you don't want any, Johnny?" I offered. He nodded, and remained standing, even after Soda sat down.

"You know," Soda said, mouthful of pizza, "you can sit down."

"Oh," Johnny said, and sat down by the lockers. There was something weird about him, but I didn't know what it might be. He just seemed really out of it. Pretty soon, Evie, Steve, Sandy and Pony showed up. Sandy sat next to Soda, leaning on him. Steve and Evie sat across from me and Soda, and Ponyboy sat between Evie and Sandy. Johnny was sitting next to me. Sandy glanced from me to Johnny, a questioning look in her eyes.

"This is Johnny. Johnny, that's Evie, Sandy, and P-Michael," I said, catching myself after glancing at Pony. He didn't like being called 'Pony', but we did it anyways.

"So, Johnny, what grade are you in?" Sandy asked.

"I'm a sophomore," he replied.

"Really?" I said, after swallowing some Pepsi. "I thought you were a freshman. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Oh. So you should be a junior?" I laughed. "I should be in college, so don't feel bad!"

Suddenly, Sandy yelped, and jumped up. We all looked at her. Her Cherry Pepsi was foaming, and she held it out at arms length. I started laughing. "Sandy! Your soda's jizzing!" I shouted. Then I thought about that after the stare I got from Soda, and laughed even harder. Evie was grinning, and Steve was laughing. Pony was tying to get the fizzing soda off of his arms, but was still grinning. I glanced over at Johnny, and he was barely smiling. Just barely. Sandy flicked pepsi at me, and scooted back away from the sticky drink on the floor.

"Hey," Pony said. "Don't you ride our bus?"

Johnny looked over at him. "I don't know. I ride bus 318."

"Yeah, so do we, occaisionaly," Steve said.

"So. . ." I said, trying to think of something to talk about. I looked over at Johnny. "What's a Slipknot?"

"Slipknot's a band, you dumbass!" Soda said. "They're metal, right?"

Johnny nodded.

"You like metal?" I asked.

He nodded again.

"Do you ever talk?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Then say something!"

"Something," Johnny replied. I grinned, and shook my head.

"Hey," Soda interjected, "You know, if you spell 'slipknot' backwards, it spells 'tonkpils'?"

Johnny stared.

"Nevermind," Soda said.

"Do you listen to any punk?" Steve said.

Johnny shook his head slowly, as if he might get in trouble for giving a wrong answer,

"Oh. That's the kind of stuff we listen to."

"Eighties metal was okay," Soda said.

"Yeah!" I shouted, making the little devil horns with my fingers, "Iron Maiden forever!"

"Hey," Soda said, shoving me, "Iron Maiden kicks ass!"

"Yeah, Domo arigato,Mr. Roboto," I said.

All at once, Sandy, Steve, and Soda all said, "That's Styx, you idiot!"

"Well I don't know all those old bands!" I said.

Soda grinned and shook his head. I glanced back at Johnny. He still wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked kind of scared. It bothered me way more than it should.

----

Oooh someone is suspicious. Yes, I know the encounter with Dallas was a bit odd, but this has happened at my old school(in which this story takes place); people will jump into fights to defend someone they don't know. A lot of major things are taken from events at my old school.


	3. Johnny

I won't be updating either of the stories for the next little while because I'll be out of town visiting relatives. So, this will be the last update for about a week.

Maddiecake: Ah… Ash Creek is a _school. . . _I thought it was a show or something XD

Part I: Chapter III: Johnny Cade

My name's Johnny. John. Johnathan. Whatever. Something along those lines. My name isn't said much, but it doesn't bother me at all; I like being left alone at school. It's when I do hear my name that I worry. I don't like being put on the spotlight. That's why I hate the teachers at my school. They always know that you don't know what's going on. They know that you don't want to be picked to answer a question, or pass out the tests. But they pick you anyways, just to pin everyone's attention on you.

In a word, school fucking sucks.

Right now, I'm sitting in sixth period, waiting for the dismissal bell to ring and let me out of this hell hole. Although, after I get out of here, I have to face the bus ride home of getting spitballs launched at the back of my head. Then after that. . .well, I might not go home today. Sometimes the fighting's too much, and I hang out wherever I can. My parents, if you have to know, aren't exactly loving and caring. Unless their way of expressing love is through insults and broken beer bottles held tight to your throat.

I'm not a pity monger; far from it. But that's how my situation is. And I deal with it pretty fine, in my opinion. As long as I have my CD player and guitar, I'm okay. Music is about the only thing in life that keeps me from going insane.

Back to current events. . .I'm in sixth period. But I already told you that. My sixth period class is Spanish. I didn't choose to be here, but I was shoved into this class anyways. I sat in the back, which I was thankful for. I always sat with my hood up, head down, and headphones on. I didn't have to worry about someone hearing the music coming from my CD player; the teacher was into class involvement, and everyone talked really loud. I was listening to a CD, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up, shaking my black bangs out of my eyes. It was the kid who sat in the next row a desk up. He was friends with the guy that invited me to sit with him at lunch. I didn't get his name. That, or I didn't remember it.

"What?" I mumbled, hitting the pause key on my CD player.

"Hey. My name's Michael. You're Johnny, right?" he said.

I nodded.

"What are you listening to?" he asked.

"40 Below Summer," I answered.

"Uh," Michael started. I could tell from the blank stare that he didn't know who they were. "Forget I asked. So where'd you go after lunch?"

"Fifth period."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. What class?"

"Geometry."

"Oh. You're a sophomore?" I nodded. "I'm a freshman."

"Oh."

"I've seen you on the bus before. You live in the same neighbourhood as me, right?"

"I guess," I replied.

"Do you want a ride home? My friend's got a car. A real nice one, too." He started explaining stuff about the car, but I didn't know shit about cars. But I did like Mustangs. That was basically the only kind of car I knew.

"Um, I think I'll ride the bus home."

"Okay. . .um you want me to come too?" he asked. This kid was stubborn. I guess it was his way of saying 'hey I want to be your friend'. I wasn't buying it.

"Can if you want to, but it's hell," I answered. Michael grinned.

"Alright. I'll see you on the bus then?"

I nodded. The shrill bell rang, and I put my headphones back on, making my way out of the classroom along with the rest of the class. I was happy that I wouldn't have to ride the bus home myself for once, but at the same time, began wondering if he might just be trying to help his friends make fun of me.

I didn't need to go to my locker. I never did after sixth period. I never did anything in class, so it didn't make sense to me to tote a textbook and binder everywhere. I walked straight out to the buses. Bus 318 was one of the first buses you see when you exit the school near the foreign language pods. I took my time walking to the bus, knowing that it was going to be practically empty for the next five minutes. I sat in the third seat on the right side of the bus. I pushed my hood back. After you got on the bus, the faculty didn't really care if you had a CD player on or not. I got my CD player taken away once, and nearly went insane. But I got it back three days later.

I felt someone sit next to me on the bus. I looked out of the corner of my eyes to see who it was. It was Michael. "Hey," he said. I pulled my headphones down, and they sat around my neck, blaring music. Michael kind of cringed. "You actually listen to that stuff that loud?" 'That stuff'. He referred to it like it was the most disgusting thing on Earth.

"Yeah."

He shook his head. "You don't get a headache?"

I shook my head.

Suddenly, there was a banging on the window. I jumped at the sudden sound. "Asshole!" the person screamed at me. It was Joey, one of the dirty blond skaters that sat in the back of the bus and threw shit at me. They hadn't done it in awhile, because they had found a new target. Then that person started riding a different bus, and they were right back on me. He got on the bus and flicked me off, yelling 'asshole' the whole time. His friends were right behind him, with dirty, scratched up skateboards in hand.

"What was that about?" Michael asked.

I shrugged. "They don't like me."

"What'd you do to 'em?"

"Nothing." He kind of stared at me for a second.

The bus started up, and it seemed to get more crowded. Luckily for us, it wasn't too crowded. The seat in front of us was still empty, which suprised me. "So. . ." Michael said. "Where do you live?"

"On White Horse Road," I answered. That was about the stupidest name for a street, but I didn't really care. "That's where my house is. I'm not there all of the time."

"Oh. We live there too. Me, and my brother Soda."

"What about Soda?" Came a new voice. We both looked up. Another one of the guys from lunch, Soda, sat down in front of us, followed by his girlfriend, Sandy. I couldn't really remember.

"I was just telling Johnny that we lived on the same street as him," Michael said. "What're you doing here?"

Soda grinned. "You think I was going to not ride the bus with you? Besides, Two-Bit's car is a little crowded."

Suddenly, a paper ball hit me in the back of the head. I ignored it. I knew it was Joey and his friends, and knew all they wanted was a reaction. Well, at least that's what people always say. Soda raised an eyebrow. He was sitting with his back against the side of the bus, and Sandy was sitting with her back to the seat in front of her. "You going to do something about that?" he said.

I shook my head. "No point. They don't listen."

"Hey asshole!" came Cody's voice. Cody was the one that was always yelling out the window at random people. It got old real fast. "Hey asshole! Are those you're fuck buddies? Ya queer!"

Sandy suddenly yelled back, "We're all heterosexual here! How about you?"

"Shut up whore!" Joey yelled.

"Hey!" Soda snapped. "Why don't you get your dicks out of each other's asses and shut the fuck up?"

"Ooooh," someone said.

We were only halfway to the first stop. Joey got off at the first stop. Cody got off at the second. We got off at the fourth stop. I felt something hit the back of my head. Then, I saw a little red candy hit the front of my seat and fall into my lap. It was an M&M. Soda took a Pepsi bottle out of his backpack. "Soda--" Michael started. Soda emptied the last bit of Pepsi out of the bottle through the window. He launched it at the back of the bus, and it hit Joey in the face.

Soda grinned. "Direct hit."

"Hey! Hey we're going to kick your ass!"

"Well, they just lost the element of suprise," Sandy said.

"Aw, you know they're just trying to show off. Do you know them, Johnny?" Soda asked.

I shook my head.

The bus came to a stop. Joey was getting off. "Asshole," he said as he passed by. Joey was the head hancho with that group of idiots. So when he got off of the bus, they stopped throwing stuff at me. Usually. The bus driver barely payed any attention to anything we did on the bus.

"Well, at least one of 'em's gone," Soda said. He and his girlfriend started flirting. Michael rolled his eyes. He sat back in his seat. He looked over at me.

"So what do you do after school?"

"Nothing," I replied.

"Maybe you could come over. I'm sure Darry won't care," Michael said.

"Okay. Who's that? Step-dad?" I asked.

"Phht. Hardly. He's my older brother." The bus stopped again. I heard a car horn blair. A red car sped by, and Soda grinned.

"There goes Two-Bit. That dumbass. He's gonna wreck that good car, I swear to God," Soda said.

"Don't forget, it's Steve's, too," Soda's girlfriend said.

"Isn't it finable to pass a bus when kids are getting out?" Michael said.

"I have no fucking idea."

I leaned my head against the window. The bus stopped again. More people got off. I listened to Soda, Michael and Sandy talk. They didn't talk much to me, but I was okay with that. The bus stopped one more time, and we got up. We got off the bus. The three of them kept talking, but I just walked beside them, and shoved my hands in my hoodie pockets as I walked. I tried to listen, but what they were talking about didn't interest me. A green SUV turned in the neighbourhood. It swerved around a red car that was parked up on the curb. "There's your friend, I think," I said, pointing to the red car.

"Hey, it is," Soda said. "Hey, Two-Bit! What are you doing there?"

The one at the wheel, Two-Bit grinned. He was the one that had introduced me to the rest of his friends. "Waiting for you bums. I was going to give you a ride home. Come on, let's go." Two other people were in the car, a guy and a girl. It was Steve, I think that was his name. And his girlfriend, Evie. I was suprised I remembered that.

"You wanna come, too, Johnny?" Michael offered.

"No thanks," I said. "I need to get home."

That was a lie. "Alright. See you later then?"

"Yeah." I walked towards my house. I didn't know how bad things were going to be at home. I should have taken their offer and went with them.

----

Excuse any errors if you will. I might have written 'Ponyboy' instead of 'Michael' a few times. Bleh. And the bus ride? Yeah, that really happened to a friend of a friend. People are so ignorant! Ahem. Alright. I'll try to update soon. Thanks for reading.


	4. Sodapop

I'm back! Since I really have nothing to say, here are reviews:

pyroJoe: I can see Johnny being either goth or emo, and also twists to those general ideas. Like... uh.. too many to list. He also reminds me of a kid at school.Two-Bit and Soda... I can see them listen to ska music as well... I think I might bring it up in later chapters.

Maddiecake: Glad that you're loving it.

Part I: Chapter IV: Sodapop Curtis

"No way is strawberry milk better than chocolate milk," Steve argued. "I mean, strawberry? Come on! Chocolate tastes so much better!"

"Whatever!" Two-Bit cried in his best Cartman voice.

"Hey!" I said. "I can settle this: how about both mixed?" I happened to think this was a very good idea. But they disagreed.

"What!" they both screamed in unison.

"That's sick, Soda," Steve said.

"Steve," Evie said, "you're talking to a guy who puts jalapeno peppers in his ice cream. I don't think he has normal human taste buds."

"You're probably right," Two-Bit said.

"Hey! Shut up!" I meant it in a friendly way, of course.

"Well, here's stop numero uno," Two-Bit said, stopping in front of our house. Ponyboy, Sandy and I got out of Two-Bit(and Steve's) car.

"See ya'll later," Sandy said.

"Bye," I said, waving at them as they drove off.

We walked up to the door. The driveway was empty; Darry wasn't home yet. He wouldn't be home until about four o'clock. That gave Sandy about an hour to stay here with us. Darry wasn't an idiot; he knew that Sandy had been over here while he wasn't home before. But, in any case, we liked to not have Darry actually see us on the couch making out, so I always took her home before he got here. Ponyboy unlocked the door, and after everyone was in, closed and locked it behind him.

"I've got the bathroom!" Pony cried.

"No!" We raced to the bathroom, and Pony beat me to it. I heard him laugh as he shut the door. I couldn't help but laugh with him. I went back to the living room, and flipped the TV on. Sci-Fi? No. E? No. Fuse? Yes. Very nice. Incubus was on. I went into the kitchen, and grabbed a bag of Cheetos from the pantry. Sandy was sitting on the couch. I sat next to her on the couch, and ate.

There are two kinds of Cheetos: crunchy, or poofy. "Cheesie Poofs" as Two-Bit prefers to call them. But, in any case, the crunchy Cheetos are way better than the Cheesie Poofs. That is why I stock up on them any time they're on sale. Ponyboy came out of the bathroom, but I decide to wait. I don't know why; I just don't have to go anymore I guess.

He walks into the kitchen, and when he gets back, he's got an apple in his hand. A green one. But it's an apple. And apple's are nasty as hell. How the kid can eat them, I don't know.

"Pony?"

"Yeah?" he said after swallowing a piece of apple.

"You eat many disgusting things," I said.

"Have you been reading fortune cookies again?" he said.

I stuck out my tongue. "Fortune cookies are nasty as hell. Why do you put paper inside of it anyways? Nothing good can come out of food packed with MSG."

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. "Soda, the cookies don't have MSG in them."

"Ugh! Who cares about fortune cookies?" Sandy shouted.

"Yeah. . .!" I said.

Ponyboy stared at us. "You're both retarded," he said, then started off to his room.

Before he could even reach the hall, there was a knock on the door. We all looked at each other. "You're standing up, Pony," I said.

He sighed. "Retarded _and_ lazy," he said as he walked to the door. He opened the door. I couldn't see who it was, because we sat facing away from the door. But Pony looked suprised. "Dude, what happened to you?"

That's when I became concerned.

There was a mumbled response that I didn't catch. I stood up and walked to the door. "Who is it?" Johnny was standing at the door. He was holding his left arm by the wrist, and it was bleeding. One of his fingers was twisted in a very unusual manner. "What the hell happened?" I shouted. Johnny jumped a bit when I yelled, but said, "I fell off my bike. Can I get a towel or something from you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Pony, get him a towel."

No rude comments this time. Pony jogged off to the bathroom, and returned with a towel. "Why didn't you go home?" Pony asked.

"Don't have a key. Nobody's home," he replied.

I wanted to say bullshit, but the kid was convincing. He didn't seem to be lying, but that sounded so stupid. What adult wouldn't give their kid a house key when they knew no one would be home to let him in? "Okay," I said. "Well, come in. It's like. . .ten degrees outside." I moved to the side, and Johnny walked in.

"Wow, are you okay?" Sandy said when she saw him.

"Fine."

"The bathroom's down the hall if you want to clean up," I said, pointing to the hallway.

"Okay."

"Do you need me to call a doctor? Your finger looks pretty screwed up," I said, not trying to sound mean.

"Nah, it's okay. Happened before," he said as he walked into the bathroom.

_Happened before?_ I thought. This kid is too weird. . .The way he said that. . .He acted like breaking your finger is something that happens everyday. Now, this maybe normal for someone like Two-Bit, but he's just a dumbass. My gut instinct told me that this was very, very wrong. I went to close the door, and looked out before closing it. "Hey, Johnny, where do you live?" I called.

"Across the street, three houses down. By that lot," he called back.

I looked down the road to the house by the lot. Two cars were in the driveway. The light in the front room was on behind the blinds. I furrowed my brow in confusion and concern. I looked around for a bike.

I couldn't see one.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

I have to find new transition effects, because they take them out of the stories now! Anyhow, I know it's short, but it has to be that way. . .No, I just couldn't write much more because this is supposed to be a _cliffhanger(_yeah I can use italics now) Anyways, you all have permission to kill me for taking so long and putting new work before this. Thank you and good night.


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